


Birthday Breakfast

by danithegirl



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday, Fluff, Gen, this is just some pure feelgood fluff for Bruce's birthday!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 12:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danithegirl/pseuds/danithegirl
Summary: Bruce may have forgotten what day it is, but his family didn't!This is for Bruce's birthday today, happy birthday dadman.





	Birthday Breakfast

All the warning Bruce gets is the quiet jiggle of his door handle, the soft footsteps across plush carpet, and then-

The whole bed bounces and startles Bruce into awareness, before he turns to look at Dick’s bright, sunny smile. His twenty-five year old son is kneeling, bouncing on the bed like a ten year old. “Good morning Bruce!”

His surprised expression draws into a deep scowl and he flops back down to his stomach, yanking a pillow over his head and holding it there with both arms. “No.” The single word comes out muffled by the mattress, but he prays it might be effective.

No such luck. Dick starts poking at his back, then his neck, but Bruce doesn’t budge. “C’monnn, Alfred has breakfast ready for you.” 

“No,” Bruce says again. He’s only been asleep for-

“You’ve been sleeping for nine hours, old man, let’s go!” 

Oh. So maybe he had been sleeping longer than he thought. But still-

“Mmf… no.”

There are a few moments of silence in which Bruce is sure Dick’s just frowning at him, but much to his surprise, Dick leans over and starts working the heel of his hand into the muscles in his back. Bruce goes stock still for a moment, before relaxing and letting Dick give him a deep, slightly painful massage. He uses his knuckles and even his fingertips to work into his back, and it hurts in the best way ever. They all have to do this sometimes, to work out all the tension and knots in their shoulders and backs and calves. As much as Bruce wants to shove Dick off and go back to sleep like a teenager, his back has been absolutely killing him lately, and he couldn’t even imagine asking him to stop.

Bruce flinches slightly as Dick passes over a tender bruise on his right shoulder blade, but Dick quickly learns and avoids that spot. Bruce loses track of time. He lays there, surrounded by the smell of clean linen and the warmth of Dick’s hands working into his sore muscles, and drifts. He has totally forgiven Dick for the rude awakening at this point. He must have drifted a little too much at some point, though, because Dick notices and retaliates by digging his fingers into Bruce’s sides instead, in just the one spot he’s actually ticklish. Bruce jolts up so fast he almost head-butts Dick, and he immediately covers his sides with his hands. He’s frozen there, looking at Dick.

Dick sits back, laughing loudly at Bruce as he gave him his absolute best death glare he could manage. One that criminals run from but Dick is cracking up at. It’s infuriating. Finally, Dick gets ahold of himself and snatches the pillow from Bruce before he could stick it back over his head. “Alright, I gave you a hellishly good massage, now you owe me so let’s go downstairs,” Dick says. Before Bruce can protest, Dick smacks the pillow back down on top of his head, and vaults off the bed. By the time Bruce moves the pillow off his face, Dick is gone. 

\---

When he finally shuffles downstairs, still in his white t-shirt and sweatpants, he rounds the corner to find everyone sitting at the table. He pauses in the doorway, blinking to make sure he’s right. He counts heads. Dick, Tim, Steph, Cassandra, Duke, and Damian are all seated around the breakfast table, grabbing bacon and sausage and eggs from the plates in front of them. Six people. He’s blown away. Usually they can’t get more than four of them together for breakfast anymore. Damian and Cass were the only real constants. Duke often skips out so he can see his girlfriend before school, Dick and Steph don’t live here, and Tim only stays in the manor maybe a third of the time, usually staying at his own apartment nowadays. Jason isn’t there, which wasn’t really a huge surprise, but still disappointing nonetheless. Maybe Bruce will be able to ask him one day. Maybe. 

“Hey, Happy Birthday, Bruce!” Bruce’s eyes move to Duke, who is smiling at him through a mouthful of pancakes, and - oh. 

“Oh my god,” Tim says. “He forgot.” 

Cassandra snickers and Bruce wants to scowl at them, but honestly, he had forgotten. Well, mostly. He’d thought about it a couple times in the past few weeks, he knew it was coming soon, he just hadn’t realized the date was upon him until it already was. So he doesn’t glare at them, because it was true. And also, because they are all gathered around the breakfast table and look so...functional? Bruce almost laughs at the word when it comes to his mind. When was the last time he had a “functional” family? 

And then, out of the blue, it hits him. They were doing this for him. Trying, for at least a moment, to be a family that eats breakfast together, even if just this once. Something bittersweet spills into his chest at that thought, and he doesn’t choke up, he doesn’t. 

Instead, he walks around the table and sits in the chair he always sits in, and looks at the absolute mountain of banana pancakes Alfred has stacked on a plate. His kids are all talking, chattering about school and Steph’s new internship she’ll be doing this summer, and the club Duke’s joining at school, and Damian’s “date” with Maps. And that’s the point in which they begin yelling and tossing food at each other, which Bruce honestly doesn’t mind too much because at least they’re doing it together. 

Alfred comes out a minute later and most of the food stops flying instantly. Bruce doesn’t understand how Alfred has so much control over them; so much so that he doesn’t have to say any words at all to make them behave. He carries a mug of black coffee over to Bruce. “Happy Birthday, Master Bruce.” He produces a blueberry muffin from behind his back, with one lit candle, and places it on the plate in front of him. Bruce looks at Alfred gratefully. 

“Thanks, Alfred,” he says. Most of his kids are still talking to each other, but a couple watch as he blows out the candle, then plucks it out of the cupcake to stick the other end in his mouth. 

Dick rolls his eyes. “There’s not even any icing on it, Bruce, it’s a muffin.”

“Did you make a wish?” Steph asks.

“Wait,” Cassandra says, holding up a hand. “You can’t tell us.”

Bruce doesn’t intend to, because if things continue as they’re going right now, it wouldn’t even matter. 

Bruce begins eating Alfred’s blessedly good banana pancakes, one of his all-time favorites, and sits quietly, perfectly content to listen to his kids. He knows that before too long, most of them will have to go. Damian and Duke to school, Stephanie and Tim to their classes, Cassandra to her recently found job at a branch of Gotham General hospital teaching self-defense classes to young girls, and Dick back to Bludhaven before nightfall. For now though, just for a little bit, everything is nice. The windows are open, letting the unusually warm February air fill the room, and Titus is perched under Damian’s chair, often inclining his head to grab a scrap of meat that Steph or Tim keep sneaking under the table not-so-discreetly. 

It is nice. Birthdays are often hard. Bruce knows that any special occasions or holidays get harder the older he gets, with more and more memories of hard years past. For now, though, Bruce feels okay. Happy. His chest is light and somehow everything feels good. He knows Jason will probably sneak into the manor later to punch his arm and tell him happy birthday, or maybe just send him a sarcastic card, but that is more than enough for Bruce because it’s progress. Barbara will probably call, too, and talk to him for a bit. Maybe he can go over and visit later; he hasn’t seen Jim in a while either. As for the rest of them, they are all here, gathered around the breakfast table. It’s all more than Bruce could ever hope to ask for. 

He catches Cassandra’s gaze from across the table, and she smiles at him, something gleaming in her eyes. He smiles back, gratefully, and takes another bite.

**Author's Note:**

> Lighthearted and sweet, I know. Hope you liked it! I love seeing everyone's posts and fics for Bruce's birthday :)


End file.
